


An Island Retreat

by colorfulCheshire



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Empathy, Gen, pity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:32:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1192050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorfulCheshire/pseuds/colorfulCheshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has their own problems growing up, yeah. So why can you never seem to let this go when the hurting person isn't yourself? You deserve whatever miserable state you've put yourself into, and they . . . they don't.<br/>-<br/>Karkat discovers something about Jade he should have known all along, but in a way that only serves to remind him of how unfair the universe is to everyone but himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Island Retreat

You had originally asked to borrow one of her seemingly-infinite computing devices to look up the title of some film you had seen ages ago and that you wanted to volunteer for the group movie night.  You hadn’t meant to get distracted, when upon pulling up the screen on the strange lunchbox headset, you were met with what appeared to be a music-player.  Suddenly curious about what human music sounded like and already preparing some choice phrases for insulting the disaster you were positive awaited you, you had asked her if it was alright for you to listen.

Jade had simply glanced up from whatever it was that she was doodling and nodded at you with that goofy little smile of hers.  You doubt she caught your glare, but if she did, it seems she didn’t care enough to revoke her permission.

Your first target of potential-scorn is from a set of her most recently-added tracks that all hold ridiculously shitty titles, which only makes sense, as it seems the one and only (more like one-million and only) Dave Strider had compiled the mixes. You hadn’t been aware that the insufferable “cool kid” actually contributed to his planet’s music any more than his muttered raps, and while the tracks don’t make you want to impale your own auricular canals, you take a mental note of this information for future reference should you ever need a particularly surprising sting to win an argument against the other Knight.

The rest of her library is alright, filled with overly-cheery electronics, more shitty mixes from Strider, a lot of heavy songs with some sort of string instrument, and plenty of tracks filled with even-more-flattened human vocals (it’s unreal how flat their language and tones are, how do they even communicate?). You are starting to feel a bit lost with how to go about finding whatever is considered “quality” music, and you’re about to cave in and prod Jade to demand she direct you to the right songs so you can gawk at how shitty they still are, when you notice the playlist tab in the navigation. You mutter beneath your breath how even Sollux could design a better program than this hoofbeast-shit, but you don’t hear yourself over the heavy strings still playing in the headset while you browse over her playlists for something okay-sounding.

You have to stop yourself mid-muttering-rant when a few of the titles start to jump out at you and grab your attention like a howling barkbeast left out during an ice storm.  They had started off normal enough, with weird titles like “classic rock,” “dave’s mixes,” and “Dreaming~” – short and vague, but descriptive enough of their content or purpose – but not even halfway down the list, the titles make you still for a moment, realization sinking in slowly like the chill of the night.

_it's too quiet_

_the rare bad dream_

_missing_

_grandpa's favorites_

_lone little island_

_cheer up! :B you can get through this!!!_

You swallow, your throat feeling thick and clumsy all of the sudden as your eyes rest on each title solemnly, understanding seeping in with every title until you’ve almost made it to the end, but you have to stop when you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from a particular title: _“you’ll see them someday! smile, okay?_ ”.  You take in a deep, shuddery breath as you move the cursor over the title and click, feeling an odd mixture of pity and guilt, like you’re recklessly tearing through someone’s hidden diary and smudging the secrets that you find there.  What then, compels you to click play?

You try to stay perfectly still, feeling utterly exposed for your misdeed, while you sit next to the victim and listen to the first song composed of nothing but sweet chimes and soft beats.  It’s cheerful and beautiful in a way you weren’t expecting, yet somehow it makes your heart ache the entire way through.  The next song has vocals, and even though they sound flat and dull to your Alternian ears, they’re nice – nice in the way a song can be when the lyrics are hopeful and reassuring despite the obvious _longing_ in the singer’s voice.  You don’t realize that you’re biting your lip until you taste blood.  The next song starts with strings, though these hum instead of twang, and you can’t take it anymore.

The program is closed and the headset set down rather harshly before you even realize what you’re doing. Jade looks up at you with apparent curiosity and you think you mumble something about forgetting an errand as you abscond from the scene with your tail between your legs and a cloud of guilt hanging over your horns.

You spend the rest of your evening in your respite-block, buried in your pile of blankets and unable to melt the chunk of ice lodged in your chest.  You’ll try to force yourself to forget all of this later even as now, you’re crying alone in your pile over some buck-toothed, overly-cheery human girl who knows how to smile far too well for her own good. 

You had once thought that pity to the point of _hurting_ was tragically romantic whenever portrayed in films and books, but as you lay in the dark of your block and feel nothing but sorrow, hurt, and the deepest _concern_ for some tiny Jade on her lonely little island, you can’t seem to find anything romantic about the situation at all.  You shouldn’t be feeling these knives in your veins over her and this stupid fucking secret you’ve discovered, but you do, and she doesn’t even _know_.  You wish you hadn’t clicked that playlist.

You wish you didn’t understand, that it didn’t remind you of perigees spent trembling alone in your empty recooperacoon during the day as you envisioned futures you would never have and all the reasons you deserved to sulk in your impending death alone and out of the way of everyone who is dead because of you or some version of you.

You deserve whatever lonely, painful death that unwinds you and exposes your soul for the horrorterrors to pick apart. You deserve to expect nothing but darkness and regret as the outcome of all of your possible futures.

You _deserve_ to feel so utterly alone. 

She doesn’t, and never did, nor ever will.

She deserves to be _happy_.

 _Why_ did this happen to her?  

**Author's Note:**

> Not my best work by a long-shot, but something I was inspired to write at around 6am so perhaps that explains the awkward writing and style. Maybe it's only me, I make playlists for different moods or needs, and earlier, the desire to make one labeled 'Anxiety' gave me this idea, about how personal a music library can be for someone who keeps lists like this.
> 
> Not my best, but comments are always welcome. I like to know what you guys think so I can improve and all of that. Er, I did a quick read through once finishing, but it's 7am so if you catch any errors, please let me know so I can fix them!


End file.
